


Almost Lover

by Chrisio



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Hercules is in there for a hot second, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pining, Tumblr Prompt, Writing Prompt, but then he leaves, don't know what happened to that, i guess, i'm sorry if this is kinda ooc i don't know how to write drunk people, idk about the love part but they're definitely idiots, this was supposed to be happy, two idiots in love, uhhh, very repressed pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 07:32:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13497516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrisio/pseuds/Chrisio
Summary: Alex gets dropped off after the guys went out drinking. Aaron just wants to go to sleep. Tensions hit a boiling point, and Hamilton is still a little shit even when blackout drunk.Tumblr prompt. Hamburr and "Why do I love you?"





	Almost Lover

**Author's Note:**

> In which I cluelessly wonder how you write a drunk person
> 
> Also, how do crushes work
> 
> Sorry boys.

Since becoming friends with a certain set of people, Burr's become no stranger to late-night knocks on his door. Sometimes it's scheduled, a nice visit that he actually has time to mentally prepare for. Sometimes it's a surprise, a good one, bringing not  _a certain set of people_  but maybe Theodosia, his best friend, or Jonathan Bellamy, his neighbor down the hall with whom he is already on fast-track to becoming friends.

Of said late-night knocks, most of them are surprises. Unfortunately, most of them are not the good ones that he adores and almost looks forward to. And as Aaron pulls open his apartment door, he can see that this is another one of those times. He takes a mere second to witness the scene in front of him before sighing and stepping back, pulling the door open with a familiar resignation. "Put him on the couch," he says, and two seconds later Hercules Mulligan steps -- no, shuffles, more like -- through his door, dragging an inebriated Alexander Hamilton along with him. Hamilton gets dumped on the couch, and Hercules turns to face Aaron, panting slightly from the effort of hauling deadweight around the apartment complex.

"Thank you," he says earnestly, and Aaron just shrugs.

"It's nothing. Anything to keep them from hurting themselves while they're drunk." He sighs, and the pair falls silent for a moment while Alex mumbles something unintelligible in the background. "It's hard enough keeping them in line when sober."

Hercules gives a dry chuckle. "You're not wrong. But really, you're good-?"

"You know I can handle Alexander. I've done it before. There's nothing to worry about. I just appreciate you calling this time."

"Well I figured we'd better do it this time." A humorless chuckle escapes from Aaron's chest, and Hercules immediately scrambles for defense at the sound. "I mean it, I really hate doing this to you-"

"It's  _okay_ , Hercules," Burr insists, waving away the exasperation that's mounting despite his friend's obvious embarrassment. "It's better to let him sober up here than with you all. You r-"

"Remember last time? Yeah, I do." He sighs, turning his eyes away. There's a moment of awkward, stuffy silence, but then Aaron steps forward to break it.

"You can't keep an eye on three of them." He moves closer, lightly pushing Hercules toward the door. "Now, you have two other most-likely drunk people in your car, and God knows what kind of damage they can do right now. I'll see you later when you're not all hungover."

"But-"

"Don't worry about Alex, I'll take care of him.  _Goodnight_ , Hercules." Aaron flashes a classic, a neutral smile with just a hint of amusement, before shutting the door. Immediately his shoulders sag, and his head falls forward, hitting the wood with a soft thunk. He contemplates staying there for a while, wonders if it's worth it to fall asleep while leaning against the door, but the sound of fabric shifting against the couch brings him back to reality. With a weary acceptance, Aaron turns around.

Alexander Hamilton: best friend, worst enemy, bad influence and overall  _ruiner of Aaron's life_  is currently cuddling a throw pillow on his couch, alternating between mumbling something under his breath and giggling. Burr sighs again, closing his eyes and praying that he'll be able to get the nuisance asleep soon before he opens his eyes again. Well, might as well get it over with. "Alright," he declares, striding over to the couch and tugging the pillow away with slight resistance. Alex makes a noise of protest, but Burr just rolls his eyes and tosses it to the opposite end of the couch. "You've had your fun. It's time to go to sleep."

"But-" Alex complains, pushing himself up into a sit. He lurches past the mark, however, and Aaron just barely pushes him up straight before he falls right off the couch. " _Burrrrrr!_ " he exclaims, the name slurring together into a meaningless sound. "The night is still young!" He grins, smile crooked as he sweeps a hand into the air. "Why don'tcha come 'ave'a-" He looks over the back of the couch, and Aaron watches as his face falls, sees the confusion creeping in as he blinks, finally seeing where he's at. It's sad, really; he looks like a puppy, and Aaron's gut clenches in a way that he shoves down for the moment. No. Deal with one thing at a time. "This isn't the bar." He looks up at Aaron. "...where'd Hercules go? He was just here 'n now he's-"

Oh, for the love of God. He just wants to sleep -- and yes, maybe he is heartless, acting this way with the droopy, melty expression on Alex's face -- but he'd take that label with no complaint. "He left, Alex," Burr says patiently, though God knows it's being tested right now, even with those confused puppy eyes. He takes ahold of Alex's arm, gently pulling him to his feet. Alex lurches up and then sways, but Aaron just steadies him, the movement familiar from many other similar times. "He dropped you off at my apartment before taking the others back. Which I'm assuming means John and Lafayette are drunk as well."

"But why'd he leave  _me?_ " Alex asks, bordering on whining, and if Aaron wasn't so adamant about getting to bed he might have a smile playing at his lips.

"Because he can't watch three of you at the same time."

"But why not?" Alex is resorting to pouting, and now Burr is actually fighting to keep a smile from his face. "He's big. And strong! He can easily keep an eye-"

"You and Laurens drunk together aren't a good match," Aaron interrupts. "Now let's get you to the bathroom, hm? You smell like alcohol, and it'll only get worse in the morning." He pushes Alexander along gently, keeping him from falling over when his feet stumble, and it takes way too long before Aaron is pushing Alex onto the toilet. "Now. Stay right here. And don't-" he holds out a finger, "...don't move. Just stay put." He backs out, slowly closing the door, before trekking to his room to rummage through his dresser. They were about the same size, right? What did he not care about enough to let a hungover man wear?

After a couple of minutes, Aaron finally finds something suitable to be deemed hangover clothing and makes his way back to the bathroom. He opens the door slightly apprehensively, and to his relief, Alex is still planted in place. "Thank you," he says, entering, and Alex brightens at the disturbance, caught in his own thoughts.

"You're back!"

An exasperated chuckle escapes as Aaron sets the clothes down on the counter and pulls a washcloth out of a drawer. "Yes, Alexander, I'm back. This is my apartment. Where would I go?"

Behind his back, Alex huffs, and Aaron imagines him crossing his arms. "Well, I dunno! Hercules disappeared, 'n y're smaller th'n him." Aaron just hums as he soaks the washcloth with water, and Alexander seems to take that as agreement before launching into another chattering tirade. He doesn't hear most of it, and when he turns around it seems Alex is too invested in whatever he's saying to notice the washcloth being brandished in his direction. In fact, it's not until Aaron starts wiping off his face does he react, sputtering and recoiling away.

"Stop it!" He complains, trying to duck away. His movements are uncoordinated, however, and are easy to follow even as he tries twisting out of reach.

"You smell," Burr simply answers. "I'd put you in the shower, but I don't trust you to support yourself right here, let alone on a wet floor."

"I do  _not_  smell!"

It's hard to resist a scoff at the childish argument. "Yes, you do," he responds, batting away the hands that tried to push him off. "Trust me. You're gonna feel gross in the morning." Another minute of attempted escape and then Hamilton seems to give up, glowering at Aaron in a look of nothing other than pure betrayal. The sight is enough to bring a wry smile to Aaron's face, and a soft chuckle escapes as he scrubs Alex's face clean. It shouldn't be as endearing as it is, but the world moves in mysterious ways, and Aaron couldn't help the affection building in his chest. "God, why do I love you?" He mutters to himself, out of exasperation more than bitterness. As soon as the words slip from his mouth, fear courses through him, causing his movements to falter.

_Shit._

He slipped. He got too close, too relaxed, and now here he was, eyes wide and hardly daring to breathe. He wants to take them back, but...that was impossible now. So instead, he goes back to rubbing the rag on Hamilton's face. They....the words were too loud. He was sure of it. They were too loud and too forceful in such a small room. There was no way Alexander wouldn't hear it, wouldn't pay attention.

Then again....Alexander  _was_  drunk off his ass. Maybe it would slip past.

"....you- y-... _whhhaaaaaat???"_

Or not.

Aaron lets out a frustrated grumble, tossing the washcloth into the sink "Nothing," he bites, but it's too late. The damage is done. He stands, feels the heat rising to his face, feels himself blushing, and Alex is beaming at him with that goddamn crooked grin and his eyes are lighting up with excitement and no, pull yourself together Burr-

"You.." Alex begins, throwing out a finger to point at Aaron dramatically. "You _lllooooooooove_   _me!"_  He crows, eyes triumphant, and Aaron feels himself flush again.

"I do not."

"Uh-uh, you just said you did! You said, you, you w're rubbin' at my face and th'n you said 'How come I love you'- no, wait, no, that's not right - you said 'Why do I love you' and I heard, I  _heard_  it, you can't say that you didn't say it 'cause I  _heard it and you said it right now and-_ "

He sounds breathless. Is he okay? Aaron looks over to see Alex.... going red in the face. Why was he going tomato red? Was that the alcohol or was it...? "Alex, breathe," Aaron orders, voice calm despite the jackhammering of his heartbeat and his nerves jumping over the place, and Alex takes an obvious inhale of breath. Oh, thank God. Maybe he'd take a hint and the matter would be over.

But knowing Hamilton, of course it isn't.

Silence follows as Hamilton recovers his breath. Burr takes advantage of the quiet, distracting from the topic by pulling Alex's shirt off over his head. There's a surprised cry of protest, but all in all Aaron manages to change Hamilton out of his old shirt and into a clean one rather smoothly. After tossing the shirt behind him, he flashes a skeptical look at his friend. "Now can you change out of those pants on your own, or do I need to help you?"

Hamilton, the impossible gremlin that he is, flashes a crooked smile in his direction, leaning forward suggestively. Or, at least, tries to. It looks more like he lurches forward and just barely catches his balance, but hey, he didn't fall over completely, which was a plus. "I dunno, do you wanna help?" He waggles his eyebrows, and suddenly Burr has to look anywhere but at Hamilton due to sheer secondhand embarrassment.

"Fine. Do it yourself," he retorts, ignoring the offer and bending down to pick up discarded clothing on the bathroom floor. He misses the way Hamilton rolls his eyes. While Aaron cleans up, Hamilton changes, and he's either extremely uncoordinated or making a show out of changing to try and rile Burr up. Maybe both. An obscenely long time later, Alex has finally wiggled into the borrowed sweatpants, falling back on the toilet. Apparently taking dear sweet time while pulling on pants is enough to exhaust a person.

"Hey, Burr?"

"...Hm?"

"...did you mean it?"

He hesitates before shaking his head, but apparently a second is all it takes, as Alex breaks out into a grin. "You looooove me," he croons. There's a quiet pause, lapsing into a small giggle after a second or two. "You love me! You-...Burr, I didn't know you were a  _sap_. That's  _adorable_! You-" he points. "You have a crush! On  _me!_ "

The heat rises to Aaron's face, and it feels like his throat is closing up. "Alex, can you please stop talking?" he asks, just about begging. If this kept up, Alex wouldn't be the only one with a headache tomorrow morning. Alex shrugs, sending him coy looks (or, as coy as a drunk person could manage), but falls quiet. The quiet is suffocating; it's too small in the bathroom, too stuffy, and suddenly Burr needs to be anywhere but in this small room with the one person on Earth he wanted to avoid right now. "Right, you're clean enough," he says quickly, gathering the bundle of clothing in his arms. "Let's get you to bed. Can you stand?"

Hamilton gives a little lurch, balancing partway for a moment before falling back on his ass on the toilet. He looks at Burr, shaking his head. "Help me?"

Burr rolls his eyes but, after tossing the pile of clothes out into the hallway -- he can pick them up later -- he offers a hand to help Alex up. Something flashes in Alex's eyes, and there's a tug on his arm before Aaron loses balance, crashing clumsy and heavy into Hamilton. There's an initial grunt of impact, but soon Aaron's head is pulled up at an angle and suddenly lips are smashing against his.

His mind stops, and his whole body freezes. Oh.  _Oh._  Thought completely abandons him, and for the moment all his blank mind feels is the pressure of lips against his, of how....nice, it feels.

Hamilton's a good kisser, even when drunk off his ass.

As soon as that thought processes, he freezes, tensing up. Shit.  _Shit._  He fucked up -- he fucked up  _bad._  Once he registers what's happening, Burr scrambles back, almost slamming into the door in his haste. His sleeve scrubs at his mouth, rubbing away the residual taste of alcohol. "What the hell?!"

Across from him, Hamilton blinks, eyes wide with surprise at Burr's reaction. "What?" he asks innocently. It's a lost cause, however; Aaron can tell from the way his mouth curves at the corner that Hamilton, even drunk Hamilton, knows what he's referring to.

"You-....I-..... _that!!_ " He manages, hand waving between the two of them. "Kissing-....what were you even  _thinking_ , doing something like that?!"

In front of him, Alex gives a dramatic sigh. "Burrrrr," he groans, head tilting back as he lurches to his feet. Liar could stand. Unfortunate. Burr's heart would be racing for a different reason if he wasn't so done with everything tonight. "Lighten uuuup. Live a li'l! 'S just a kiss.....after all, two people, like each other.....alone....at night..." He's staring at Aaron's lips, and Aaron frowns, shaking his head.

"It's different, Alexander. You're drunk."

"I don' see why that should stop us from-"

"Because you won't remember it tomorrow, Alex." He fixes a steely stare on Hamilton. "I'm trying to keep us from doing something we'll both regret." Better to not kiss at all than find out the drunk and sober Hamilton felt very different things.

Even with that line of logic, even watching the gears turn in Hamilton's mind, it was still shocking to see him shrug after a minute of serious consideration. "'M not gonna regret it," he says, swinging in for another kiss, and it takes all of Aaron's resolve to push him away.

"No. It's-...It's too late for this. I- You're going to bed, I'm going to bed, and then I'm calling Hercules tomorrow so he can pick you up."

Hamilton groans again. "Aaron-"

Exasperation and irritation flares in his chest. "I said no, Alexander. You're going to regret it, and God help me if I don't keep you from doing something this stupid." He takes Alex's bicep in his hand and carefully drags him down the hallway, throwing open the door to his bedroom. Alex is pulled toward the bed, and Burr gestures toward it, just short of pointing at it.

"Lie down."

Alex's face pinches into that snarky frown he gets when he's about to be mouthy. Aaron's seen it plenty of times before. "I can think 've some things more fun than-"

"So can I. It's called shutting up." He all but pushes Hamilton down onto the mattress, pulling the blankets up almost in an aggressive manner. "Now for my sake, roll over and go to sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

Wide eyes stare up at him, looking almost awed. "...You're bossy. I kinda like it." Aaron chances a glance down and sees Alex giving him a look through his eyelashes. Well, that kind of look never led to anything good. He rolls his eyes, almost wishing he could indulge that look, before moving back toward the bedroom door. Not more than two steps in, something snags his wrist, making him stagger back toward the bed to keep his balance.

"Wait!"

Oh  _come on._

Aaron turns to fix Hamilton with the sternest look he can muster. "Let me go," he orders, but Alex just shakes his head.

"Y're not gonna sleep in here?"

He's rolled his eyes so much tonight, it's hard to fight back the urge again. "No, Alex. You're drunk, I hardly think it's appropriate." Aaron tugs his arm, but Hamilton's grip just tightens. "Now can you please let me go? You need to sleep-"

"But I don't  _wanna_  sleep-"

It was hard to believe he harbored feelings for the man. He was going to kill him before things could go anywhere.

 _"I don't care,"_  he says venomously, exhaustion winning out over endearment. "You're  _drunk_ , you need to sleep. Ineed to sleep. Now  _let me go_."

Alex makes a sound akin to an irritated grumble but doesn't let go. "But-" he whines, before cutting himself off, his usual thoughtful expression taking over his face. It's quiet (for once), but Burr is two seconds from ripping his wrist out of Alex's hold before his friend's mouth opens again. "Wwhhat if we make a deal?"

Shoulders stiffen. A small huff escapes Burr's nose. "...what."

"...what if...." Using Aaron's wrist, Hamilton pulls himself up, tilting his head up to smirk in Burr's face. It was intimate, it was embarrassing, and Aaron fights the urge to take a step back. "I let you go. But....only if you give me another kiss."

Aaron feels his heartbeat pick up, but he carefully keeps his face neutral, fixing Hamilton's loose smirk with his sternest disapproving glare. He was not going to give Hamilton the satisfaction of seeing him flustered, so help him God. "No," he growls. "No way." Alex's shoulder's sag a little, but they straighten back up as the familiar look of determination flashes in eyes.

"What, 'm I that bad at kissing? Y' could just say so-"

Aaron tunes the rest of it out. It's not that he's bad at kissing. No, it's exactly the opposite. But Hamilton is drunk, flat-out intoxicated, and Burr doesn't know how much he'll remember in the morning. What if he didn't feel that way once sober? No, better to keep safe than wake up in regret. Mind made up, he tunes back in to find Hamilton still talking, though Aaron has no idea what topic he was on now. A surge of exasperation courses through him, and in a move only half-thought-through, Aaron takes Alexander's face in his one free hand and pulls him closer, pressing a kiss to his forehead. The chatter cuts off, and the grip slackens on Aaron's captive wrist enough for him to pull it away. In fact, Alex is so dumbstruck that Aaron's able to step away and almost make it through the door before he speaks again.

"But- that's not what I meant!"

Burr leans in from the doorway. "You never stated specific parameters before we agreed. You got a kiss.  _Goodnight_ , Alexander." And with that he pulls the door shut, closing it harder than he probably should at this time of night.

As soon as the door slams closed the tension in the air dissipates, and he leans back against the wood, closing his eyes. God. Would Alex remember tomorrow? Burr hoped not. It would be easier to pretend that never happened, to act like it didn't slip out. A pit settles in his stomach, but Aaron swallows it down. Well, it was all up to luck, now. If Hamilton didn't remember, then great, that would be that. If he remembered and things were....favorable, then hey, Burr wouldn't complain. If Hamilton remembered, but only acted that way 'cause he was drunk...

....He'd see what happened in the morning and then work from there.

With his mind made up, Aaron shuffles down the hallway, craving sleep and whatever escape possible from the mess hanging over his head.

Alexander Hamilton: best friend, worst enemy, bad influence and overall ruiner of Aaron's life snored on, blissfully unaware of the distress he was causing on the other side of the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from "Almost Lover", 'cause I needed a song title/fic title and I like making myself sad, apparently
> 
> Come find me at my tumblr: [@Schmilliam](https://schmilliam.tumblr.com/)


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